The Cold Hard Snow
by TheIbis2010
Summary: It's Christmas Eve, 1831. Montparnasse is performing a job for a vile criminal. Éponine is helping him. She seems to be getting along fine with his co-conspirators, and isn't acting unusual at all...but does she have motives of her own? Originally meant for the holidays, but now I decided this might also be a good comfort for all of us stressing about tests.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Happy 2015, _mes chers lecteurs!_ Yes, it has been a long time since I've done any work, and I'm sure all the people waiting patiently for more Hate and Bloody Flag don't want my first writing of the year to be a holiday short published in mid-January, but there you go. T****here will be an update on Hate coming soon, though. Anyway, t****his one-shot is set in my own Les Mis universe (I call it the Ultimate universe. You're welcome, Marvel fans!). I had a ton of fun writing it, and I hope you enjoy reading it and forgive me for being very late for the holidays. ****_Allons-y!_ (you're welcome, Whovians!)**

**Wow. A Marvel _and_ Doctor Who joke in one Author's Note. My geeky-ness is showing like mad. But who cares? _Who_ jokes are cool. :)**

**P.S. If I am efficient (which I really can be if I try), than tomorrow after I finish writing my freaking English final, I can get the second chapter up, because it's almost done! :)**

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><p><strong>December 24, 1831<strong>

The ice cracked as Montparnasse's boots walked over the snow, followed by his two cohorts. Low and mean men they were, recruited by the promise of a few decent francs from one of Pantin's disreputable taverns. He'd memorized their names after they volunteered, and while he still couldn't match the name with its proper owner yet, their faces were becoming as familiar to him as his closest friends.

Years of living off Pars's underbelly had taught Montparnasse several things about its local mercenaries. 1): They want to be paid upfront. 2): You can sniff out the ones who playing at tough and are really from the Faubourg Saint-Germain by how new their hats were. And 3): They all knew, by recognition or by name, the girl who was waiting for them under the Pont d'Austerlitz. The girl who slunk in the city's alleys, the girl who dressed as a boy, the girl who had given half her heart to Montparnasse because no one else would claim it, and kept the other half buried under the experience of long years staying out in the cold, hard snow.

Éponine had been becoming more involved in the operations of Patron-Minette recently, and it was no mystery why. While her father may have been a criminal celebrity in his day, he was sinking further and further into obscurity, despite his constant jobs with Patron-Minette. There were some older gamins who'd taken to calling the former innkeeper's garret _Le Tombeau du Chacal _(The Tomb of the Jackal). The idea of losing influence enraged the man, even more than the fever that had kept him bedridden since October. So Éponine, like any good daughter, carried out her father's orders on his behalf.

The four of them crept towards the gamine, listening to the red-clad carolers above, who sang "The First Noel" and "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen" to any passerby with enough Christmas spirit to drop a coin or two in their cups. _'__Fools._' thought Montparnasse. There was much better money to be made, if one knew where to look.

Being unemployed and generally bored around this time of year, Montparnasse had taken a solo job, free of Patron-Minette. Tonight, he was working for the notorious Isaac Wolfstein. He'd told him he had a dealer, Bloom, who ran a smuggling business out of his antique store in the Faubourg St. Antoine. He had defaulted on the last five payments he owed Wolfstein. The kingpin's system decreed that five deserved a friendly warning and eight a stern. Montparnasse hoped the old merchant wouldn't reach eight for his sake. He was unlikely to survive Wolfstein's personal brute squad.

The stages of the "friendly" warning consisted of Éponine picking the lock on the door once the street was empty, Montparnasse raiding the till, and Jacques issuing the warning while Gustav (quietly) broke a few of his fingers. Half the money from the till would then be divided up among the three of them, with the other half going to Wolfstein. The whole event would then be passed off as the simple misfortunes of a Jew staying open for business on Christmas Eve.

"You're early." Éponine hissed to him as the four of them walked alongside the frozen Seine. "It's 10:00, according to the bells. Still fifteen minutes before the rest of the shops close."

"Bah." Said Gustav. "I don't mind a little stake-out, as long as there's something to pass the time."

True to her sharp mind, Éponine laughed. "Well, you won't have _me_ to help you with that, buck-o. It's too blasted cold out here for me to enjoy any man."

"Even me?" He whispered in her ear as he reached for her arm.

She swatted his hand away. He wasn't sure if she was being serious or playful. "Even you, you dandy. Now come on." And she led them over the bridge and out of the park, towards Bloom's shop.


	2. Chapter 2

Noah Bloom, proprietor of _Roman and Eastern Antiquities_, and closet criminal, leaped to his feet as a quartet of malevolent-looking people stormed into his shop. Jacques kicked the door open with his foot, wielding his knife at the old man. "Into the corner." The man obeyed, and Gustav and Montparnasse followed, grinning madly as they advanced towards their prey. Éponine entered the shop as quietly as she could, not wanting to attract attention from anyone.

She heard Jacques make his predictable threats to the Jew, and she could see Gustav leaning down to begin torturing him. Muffled cries of pain ensued, and she had no stomach to watch another man's suffering tonight. While the three criminals did their work, she admired the Chinese vases and Italian plates on the sales shelves. Éponine thought wistfully what her garret would look like with something as pristine as these, rather than a crummy old painting over the fire. As she daydreamed, Parnasse finished stuffing the coins into a sack and declared "I'm taking a fiacre back to the bridge. Wolfstein said to rendezvous there. I'll give him his cut, and hurry back here so all four of us can scram. Jacques, you keep look out. If anyone so much as bats an eyelash at this shop, don't hesitate to get violent."

Jacques nodded obediently, and Montparnasse sped away.

While Gustav, true to his brutish nature, hissed in Bloom's ear "Hear that, you _salopard juive_? Don't think your neck's off the block yet", Jacques glanced out the windows to see if anyone was there. He suddenly turned to Éponine. "Whadda you still doin' 'ere?" he asked in his gruff provincial accent.

She cleared her throat. "What am I supposed to do? Montparnasse didn't give me any orders past picking the lock."

"You can take mine an' stand watch outside the shop. Your boyfriend gave me half my pay upfront, and said he'd give me the rest when we was done. I never agreed to anything aside from causin' trouble for this old sod, an' that includes sentry work. So take my spot and make yourself useful while you're on yer feet an' not yer back."

After being with Montparnasse for so long and tolerating the crude abuse of his associates, Éponine knew better than retaliate. But knowing better didn't stop her from doing it anyway, and she smacked Jacques across the face, his entire body flinching to one side.

She grabbed his coat and brought him to her, meeting his shocked and confused eyes as coolly as she could. "Say something like that again and I'll take Gustav's job too, and thrash that stupid shopkeeper like the Devil himself. Then I'll do the same to you if I'm still in the mood, Jacques Boulanger."

Even after three years, Éponine still got a great sense of pleasure watching men cower when they realized she was so much more than a pretty face (well, mildly pretty: she really shouldn't flatter herself, given the state of her hair and dress). When she spoke Jacques's last name, his eyes went wide, and he quickly shrank back from her. She couldn't resist a slight smirk spreading across her face.

"Oh, don't worry, Jackie Boy. I'm only teasing. Really, if you get scared stiff when a small thing like me bares its teeth, Lord knows how you've made a career as a housebreaker!" She laughed, patted the man on the shoulder in a mockingly reassuring manner, and began watch outside the shop.

Éponine waited until the cursing had ended and the pitiful cries of Bloom had died down. She began whistling after a few minutes, loud enough for Jacques and Gustav to hear but quiet enough not to attract any attention. She didn't even know what she was singing until the words came out:

_Silent night_

_Holy night_

_All is calm, all is bright._

_Round yon Virgin, mother and child_

_Holy infant, tender and mild._

_Sleep in heavenly peace,_

_Sleep in heavenly peace._

Since the abrupt end of her childhood, Éponine had not had the fondest memories of Christmas. It mostly consisting of having to scrounge an extra meager half-loaf of used baker's bread, and avoiding the river whenever it was too cold. But she remembered always feeling sad when it was over, as though some great event had occurred in those final December day that she'd only heard off, and would not see again for a long time.

But not tonight though. Tonight was the night where she made Christmas memorable by her own dent of effort, and not just let it pass by. All she needed was another amicable minute, and for those two numb-skulls not to get too suspicious.

It had started snowing on their way to the shop, and little flakes continued to catch in Éponine's eyes as she searched the cobbled streets on her hands and knees for a loose stone. She triumphantly found one, not too large and not too heavy. She mimed hurling it a few times at the unlit window of the small cafe across from Bloom's. Then, after another bit of practice, she threw.

The crash could be heard at every end of the street, and she had no doubt some passers-by, and most definitely a policeman, would be arriving soon to investigate. Éponine did her best to act stunned as Jacques and Gustav came rushing out the shop. They saw her arm extended towards the broken window, the patch of cleared snow of the street (most importantly), the sight of lights flickering on, getting closer.

"What the hell did you do that for!" Gustav yelled in her ear.

Faking distress, Éponine cried "There was a boy! I saw him peeking from behind the cafe! He was watching Bloom's, I swear, and he must have been piecing together what was going on! I didn't have time to think, so I hissed at him to go away. He didn't, and I threw the rock at him."

If there has ever been evidence in human history of a man swelling up like a badly kept boiler, the brute Gustav was the model. His face grew wider as he bared and grit his teeth in anger, his hands shook, and his features flushed so red that he looked like a cherry. He grabbed Éponine's arm, and seemed to be on the verge of doing something serious when his temper cooled, and pointed towards one end of the street.

"Find Montparnasse. Tell him how stupid you've been and that if he hasn't paid Wolfstein yet, he better leg with you and say he's sorry later. Jacques and I will head back to safer territories. And girl!" He added as she was beginning to walk away. "If you mess this job up any more, I will snap your skinny little arms like twigs."

She put on her bravest, cockiest smile. "Oh really, Gustav? And what use will your great strength be when Parnasse slits your throat in the middle of the night?"

The man hesitated, then sneered. "Do you really wanna bet he'll stick his neck for _you?"_

"I don't know. Do you?" Then Éponine ran, as fast as she could, back in the direction of the Pont d'Austerlitz.


End file.
